Sass
by Shipperwolf
Summary: It was amazing what a little confidence could do for a person. Oneshot, pre-S3.


**Hey folks!**

**Here's another random little oneshot for you guys, set during the winter not very long after the group leaves the Greene farm.**

**Enjoy, and remember that I own not the Daryl, the Carol, or the awkward, sexy feels between them. **

**Or TWD. I don't own that, either :P**

* * *

It was amazing what a little confidence could do for a person.

It could make them brave. It could make them strong. It could make them daring.

Or, as in Carol Peletier's case, it could make them _sexy as hell_.

* * *

"Damn."

The whisper wasn't lost on him as Carol took a hesitant step back from the fence. The rifle in her grasp lowered a bit, along with her head.

Daryl had rarely heard the woman cuss before. But he noticed she'd been doing it a little more freely since they left Hershel's farm several weeks back. It surprised him at first. Now it just made him grin a little.

"Relax. Ain't a big thing. Try again."

It was their third day camped out in the little shack at the edge of a random woodland, their third day of taking a break from _running, running, and running_ to show the more inexperienced of them how to properly handle the big guns.

A field spread out from the east side of the rotting old house and an equally rotting wood fence ran partially through it. They'd set up a few old bottles on the opposite fence line some forty yards away, making things as easy as possible for the likes of Lori, Carol and Beth.

Today was Carol's day. Daryl had chosen to teach her without Rick's input.

Rick hadn't argued a damn second.

She'd been nervous the moment he handed over the rifle, but hadn't complained or wussed out. She was fast becoming a champ over her own insecurity, shoving it away when the Walkers popped out of nowhere and she'd killed her fair share up close so far.

But while anyone with a swinging arm could crack open a Walker skull with a bat or a machete, it took some practice to get aiming a kicking rifle just right every time.

Her nervousness was becoming frustration, as every shot missed was, in her opinion, "another bullet wasted".

Daryl huffed and drew closer.

"Me an' Rick rationed out the practice rounds. We still got plenty. Calm on down, now. Straighten up. Take a breath. Try again."

Carol met his eyes and he saw them relax a little. He always felt some strange calm when she looked at him like that, like his face somehow made her day better when once upon a time, his face made _everyone's_ day the worst they'd ever had.

No one had ever looked at him the way Carol did.

He hated it back on the farm.

Then he got used to it, and now….

Now he went out of his damn way to _get_ her to look at him with that softening gaze that made his chest tighten and swell.

Not that she'd ever know it.

God damn him to Hell if she ever did.

He watched her back straighten up slightly, and she leaned forward against the fence just enough to steady her body. That morning she'd had to use the fence to prop up the gun and keep her aim straight. She'd hit enough bottles to make her smile but he made it a point to remind her that she'd hardly have such a prop when shooting at Walkers.

He hadn't meant to dash her sudden surge of pride, but he suspected he had, just a bit.

But Carol wasn't a fool, she knew he had a point and she knew he meant well.

So far, she couldn't keep steady and hit the two remaining bottles off their perch.

She fired again and hit the fence just below one of the targets. Daryl noticed her head rise up a bit and a grin touch her lips.

And then he realized just how closely he was hovering, and she cut her eyes at him just as he began backing away.

"Good shot. Rest your arms a second and then try again."

With a determined sigh she obeyed, handing him the rifle when he gestured for it. Carol leaned forward against the fence and seemed to stare off in the direction of the bottles, head tilting to the side a moment and he swore he heard her hum a little.

And then, with a blink, she stepped back and stretched, arms reaching to the sky and her eyes flew upward with them.

"Okay," she murmured towards the clouds above their heads, "One more go."

Daryl bit his lip at the flash of belly skin he caught glimpse of when she stretched, practically thrust the gun into her hands when she relaxed and reached for it.

With a straightened spine and perfect positioning, Carol aimed the gun without leaning forward on the fence at all. He found himself holding his breath like an idiot for the second it took for her to be sure of her target, and then she fired.

Plastic splintered as the bottle was knocked into the wind.

And then it happened.

Carol jumped back with a smile as wide as he'd ever seen, and laughed out loud.

"_Yes_! Did you see that?"

He grinned and nodded,

"Yeah. Damn good shot. Think you can do it again?"

Her teeth flashed in the sunlight and an eyebrow quirked upward.

She thought he was challenging her, and the look she set on him was…

Daryl felt his throat clench as his brain registered what his body already knew. Carol was not just giddy-happy that she'd finally made the shot, but she was also suddenly so much surer of herself.

And as she raised the rifle to aim at the only remaining bottle, and one of her legs bent a little and those hips suddenly cocked to one side, Daryl realized that this sudden little spark of confidence was making Carol downright _sexy_.

She fired again. Knocked the bottle into the field beyond.

And again, she lowered the gun and smiled like the sun.

This time, it was followed by a small, silly little hop, as her entire body seemed to _jump for joy_.

"I've got it! _Finally!_ Good God, I thought I'd be shootin' at those things all day."

He chuckled at her adorable (_and just _when_ the fuck did she go from being "Carol" to being "sexy and adorable", he'd never know)_ excitement and found a strangled voice to speak,

"Yeah. You got it."

He had to clear his throat in between words and he wanted to kick himself. But there was a fucking toad caught in his windpipe and it was all Carol's hips' fault, and as she set the rifle down against a fencepost to grin up at him, he swore she must have known it.

She leaned to the side against the wood and looked out over the field, suddenly so relaxed and happy and confident that she almost seemed a whole different person.

He'd seen her come out of her shell more and more over the past month or so, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

Daryl could only think of one word to describe it: _Sassy_.

He'd never before considered the homely, quiet woman to be such, never expected what a little rush of true self-confidence could do for her.

He stepped back away from his place next to her, eyes darting over her body and seeing it, seeing _her_, in a new light. The woman was his friend, and he knew _something_ about her- her kindness and softness, he figured— drew him closer to her, but now…

Now she was something more than just gentle and kind and quietly resilient. Now she was….

Something he didn't quite know what to do with.

Something he didn't quite know how to respond to.

But as he watched the way her ass shifted again to one side and her head held high to look down the fence line at the sun splitting the puffy clouds above them, he realized her eyes seemed a brighter blue than he really remembered, and a peaceful determination had settled in them behind the joy and softness he was so used to seeing.

Daryl drew his gaze to her mouth when she turned to smile at him again.

"Thanks for teaching me, Daryl. I really needed this."

His feet moved without his command and brought him back beside her, leaning a shoulder on the softening wood and fumbling for a decent response.

He found none, aside from a thick "Sure."

Carol settled forward against the fence and seemed to breathe in the field. The sun was trying to set and the sky was turning pink around them.

Daryl blinked when she sighed, smiling…happy.

He decided he liked this new side to Carol.

A little sass did her good.


End file.
